yet a mortal figure. By such means you got yourself penned into a
corner, and you can't help guessing a _im_mortal figure. That's about
it. Why didn't you say so sooner?

Yes. It was a immortal figure that I had altogether left out of my
Calculations. Neither man's, nor woman's, but a child's. Girl's or
boy's? Boy's. "I, says the sparrow with my bow and arrow." Now you
have got it.

We were down at Lancaster, and I had done two nights more than fair
average business (though I cannot in honour recommend them as a quick
audience) in the open square there, near the end of the street where Mr.
Sly's King's Arms and Royal Hotel stands. Mim's travelling giant,
otherwise Pickleson, happened at the self-same time to be trying it on in
the town. The genteel lay was adopted with him. No hint of a van. Green
baize alcove leading up to Pickleson in a Auction Room. Printed poster,
"Free list suspended, with the exception of that proud boast of an
enlightened country, a free press. Schools admitted by private
arrangement. Nothing to raise a blush in the cheek of youth or shock the
most fastidious." Mim swearing most horrible and terrific, in a pink
calico pay-place, at the slackness of the public. Serious handbill in
the shops, importing that it was all but impossible to come to a right
understanding of the history of David without seeing Pickleson.

I went to the Auction Room in question, and I found it entirely empty of
everything but echoes and mouldiness, with the single exception of
Pickleson on a piece of red drugget. This suited my purpose, as I wanted
a private and confidential word with him, which was: "Pickleson. Owing
much happiness to you, I put you in my will for a fypunnote; but, to save
trouble, here's fourpunten down, which may equally suit your views, and